An experiment in voice

When I was getting to the part of the plotting stage of this book where I was trying to get inside my character's heads and figure out who they were in terms of personality, I was running into a block as far as Jeyne was concerned. I knew her name, that she had brown hair and hazel eyes. I knew she worked in an inn and that she was rather boyish. I thought she was an only child. I thought her parents would be mostly warm towards her. But I could not get into her head to the point where I thought I could tell this story from her perspective. So I started it off in the more traditional omniscient third person and... found I really am quite bad at that. So I took the little I was able to force out and changed it all to first person. It might just be that I tend to like first person better, but I think it flows more nicely. What do you all think? Which is better?

Emergent - Chapter One Excerpt -Third Person

Jeyne peered out her attic window and groaned, unable to keep the sound of dismay from escaping her lips. A violent storm - too violent for what was normally a gentle harvesting season - had blown through the previous night and it trailed destruction in its wake. She knew without asking that it would be her duty to clear the small yard in front of her family's wayside inn, and to assist whatever townsfolk were unfortunate enough to have to deal with the muddy mire that now scarcely resembled the only road in town. 

Beside Jeyne, her sister was smirking. Tiny, with just the right amount of plumpness to her frame, Toria would never be considered for such rough manual labor as hefting fallen branches or dealing with the muck of a muddy road. Such things, along with the care of animals, the scrubbing of the huge pots in the kitchen and any other chore that might be considered menial were for Jeyne. All Toria need do to earn her keep in the inn was to smile at guests, make up fresh beds and help with the baking and cooking.

"I doubt many people will want to leave today," Toria observed, peering at her faint reflection in the window, patting her blond curls into place.

"You say that like it means extra work for you," Jeyne groused. "We have four guests and it's not likely any more will arrive." She was braiding her own dense brown hair as she spoke, not at all mindful of how it looked but only that it was all tightly secured. A look at the trees with their branches of colorfully dying leaves still quivering in the sunlight told her that it would be windy. Everyone else would praise the wan sunshine and the constantly blowing wind as means of the road drying sooner; for Jeyne, it would only mean chapped skin and a cold morning.

"Aww, don't be so sour," Toria mock-pouted. "Everyone can already tell by looking at you that you didn't get your beauty sleep." 

Jeyne rolled her eyes, ignoring the dig. Her plain looks were something Toria brought up as often as she could, despite the fact that Jeyne had long ago given up on giving her sister the reaction she was after. Retaliation, whether it was verbal or physical, only ended in Toria's blue eyes filling with tears just long enough for one of their parents to notice and then she would smile slyly as Jeyne was scolded and given additional chores as punishment. Tying her braid off, Jeyne turned from the window, snatched up her cap from its hook on the wall and made her way down the narrow and uneven stairs to the kitchen. 

Her mother looked up as Jeyne clattered down the last few steps and gave her younger daughter a disapproving look. She firmly believed that the thumping sound of Jeyne's footsteps would disturb their guests, although there was only one room next to the servant's stairs and it was only used on rare occasions when the rest of the inn's six other rooms were full. Jeyne always took care to move silently past the second floor's door but took the last few steps at a bound out of habit. So far, there had been no actual complaints about noise and so Jeyne did as she pleased.

A moment later, Toria entered the kitchen behind Jeyne, taking care to exaggerate her ladylike steps, smiling sweetly at their mother as she did so.

Jeyne simply rolled her eyes again, turning away as the other two women greeted each other with good morning's and started discussing the previous night's storm and the implications that would have on their day. The washing would have to wait, they decided, as it was unlikely that anyone would be coming or going anywhere, for who would choose to travel on such a terrible road unless they were in a very great hurry to get somewhere? Shrugging on her coat and stuffing a freshly baked roll in either pocket, as well as cramming half of a third into her mouth, Jeyne exited the warm kitchen and made her way through the deserted dining area and past the front desk to exit the inn.

"Jeyne," her father called to her from where he sat at the desk as he did each morning, going over accounts.

"Yes?" she asked around a mouthful of bread.

He ignored her rudeness. Unlike her mother, Father tended to view Jayne with less disfavor when she acted in an unladylike manner. She was, after all, the closest thing to a son he would ever get and so while he did not encourage her in her rude behavior, neither did he discourage her.

"I'll see to the animals right after this," he gestured at the account book in front of him with its tidy rows of names and columns of numbers. "If you could start in on clearing the yard, I'll be along to help clear away that debris if any of those branches are too heavy for you. Take what you can around back and we'll have to chop it up some other day."

"Alright," Jeyne nodded and was out the door, determined to handle as much of it as she could on her own. Working hard enough that Father noticed it always meant that she would get an extra hour of free time in the evenings, released from chores that could wait until the next day. It was one of her few chances to read and be free from distractions and interruptions occasioned by her family.

As soon as she stepped outside, the wind sliced through Jeyne's clothing like a razor. "I should earn two extra hours for this," Jeyne muttered, surveying the damage from this closer vantage point. "Goddess, there must be an entire forest's worth of limbs here."

Suddenly the small stables and whatever animals might be penned there overnight seemed like the very height of desirable locations in which to work. Her father wasn't doing her any favors by offering to see to that chore before helping her. Cold as the stables might be, with the poorly fitted window and door, at least there were walls to cut down on the vicious wind and no one would expect her to drag any of the beasts anywhere.

With a grim sign of resignation, Jeyne bent to the nearest fallen branch and tugged on it. It moved reluctantly, weighted down by soaked leaves and half buried in mud. Grunting with the effort, Jeyne dug the heels of her boots into the soft ground and nearly lost her footing as the ground shifted softly underneath her. But the branch was moving now and it was easier to keep up the momentum. Dragging it step by mired step around the corner of the inn, Jeyne took it very nearly to the kitchen door and then dropped it.

The damage was nearly as bad back here and as Jeyne straightened from the end of the limb she had just dropped, she surveyed the wreckage. That one there is twice as thick as any out front, she thought. There would be no moving that on her own, but perhaps it would keep until things had dried out and it could be chopped into smaller segments.

As she walked back around to the front of the inn, Jeyne could not help wondering at the fact that no windows had been smashed through in the middle of the night. Glancing up and down the street as she approached the front yard, she realized that the inn had been extraordinarily lucky. Darryn [], the shopkeeper, was assembling boards to nail over one of his east-facing windows. A little further down, Jeyne could see that an entire tree had toppled into the road from where it had previously stood sentry in front of a small house. Had it fallen in the other direction, Jeyne was certain the family would have been crushed.

Turning around and craning her neck, Jeyne peered up at the roof of the inn. She had heard several ominous thumps during the long night and the storm; between that, the howling wind and the booming of thunder, it had made for quite a racket. Her current spot in the yard made it impossible to see all the way to the peak of the roof so, without thinking about it, Jeyne backed up several steps. Her last step sent her sprawling over backwards into the mud.

Cursing through gritted teeth at her own carelessness, Jeyne reached out a hand to brace herself against the tree limb she had fallen over in order to steady herself as she obtained her feet. Even as she pushed against the tree however, she realized that something about it felt wrong, even through her gloves. Her eyes immediately sought out the reason for this and she felt the breath catch in her throat as she realized that she hadn't grasped a tree limb at all, but instead a human limb.

Choking back her shock, Jeyne sucked in a deep breath and cautiously maneuvered herself to be able to see more of the still form that was more than half buried underneath a particularly large and still-leafy branch.  

Emergent - Chapter One Excerpt -First Person

I peered out my attic window and groaned, unable to keep the sound of dismay from escaping my lips. A violent storm - too violent for what was normally a gentle harvesting season - had blown through the previous night and it trailed destruction in its wake. I knew without asking that it would be my duty to clear the small yard in front of my family's wayside inn, and to assist whatever townsfolk were unfortunate enough to have to deal with the muddy mire that now scarcely resembled the only road in town. 

Beside me, my sister was smirking. Tiny, with just the right amount of plumpness to her frame, Toria would never be considered for such rough manual labor as hefting fallen branches or dealing with the muck of a muddy road. Such things, along with the care of animals, the scrubbing of the huge pots in the kitchen and any other chore that might be considered menial were for me to do. All Toria need do to earn her keep in the inn was to smile at guests, make up fresh beds and help with the baking and cooking.

"I doubt many people will want to leave today," Toria observed, peering at her faint reflection in the window, patting her blond curls into place.

"You say that like it means extra work for you," I groused. "We have four guests and it's not likely any more will arrive." I was braiding my own dense brown hair as I spoke, not at all mindful of how it looked but only that it was all tightly secured. A look at the trees with their branches of colorfully dying leaves still quivering in the sunlight told me that it would be windy. Everyone else would praise the wan sunshine and the constantly blowing wind as means of the road drying sooner; for me, it would only mean chapped skin and a cold morning.

"Aww, Jeyne, don't be so sour," Toria mock-pouted. "Everyone can already tell by looking at you that you didn't get your beauty sleep." 

I rolled my eyes, ignoring the dig. My plain looks were something Toria brought up as often as she could, despite the fact that I had long ago given up on giving my sister the reaction she was after. Retaliation, whether it was verbal or physical, only ended in Toria's blue eyes filling with tears just long enough for one of our parents to notice and then she would smile slyly as I was scolded and given additional chores as punishment. Tying my braid off, I turned from the window, snatched up my woolen cap from its hook on the wall and made my way down the narrow and uneven stairs to the kitchen. 

My mother looked up as I clattered down the last few steps and gave me a disapproving look. She firmly believed that the thumping sound of my footsteps would disturb our guests, although there was only one room next to the servant's stairs and it was only used on rare occasions when the rest of the inn's six other rooms were full. I always took care to move silently past the second floor's door but took the last few steps at a bound out of habit. So far, there had been no actual complaints about noise and so I ignored my mother's disapproval and did as I pleased.

A moment later, Toria entered the kitchen behind me, taking care to exaggerate her ladylike steps, smiling sweetly at Mother as she did so.

I simply rolled my eyes again, turning away as the other two women greeted each other with good morning's and started discussing the previous night's storm and the implications that would have on their day. The washing would have to wait, they decided, as it was unlikely that anyone would be coming or going anywhere, for who would choose to travel on such a terrible road unless they were in a very great hurry to get somewhere? Shrugging on my coat and stuffing a freshly baked roll in either pocket, as well as cramming half of a third into my mouth, I exited the warm kitchen and made my way through the deserted dining area and past the front desk to exit the inn.

"Jeyne," my father called to me from where he sat at the desk as he did each morning, going over accounts.

"Yes?" I asked around a mouthful of bread.

He ignored my rudeness. Unlike my mother, Father tended to view me with less disfavor when I acted in an unladylike manner. I was, after all, the closest thing to a son he would ever get and so while he did not encourage me in my rude behavior, neither did he discourage me.

"I'll see to the animals right after this," he gestured at the account book in front of him with its tidy rows of names and columns of numbers. "If you could start in on clearing the yard, I'll be along to help clear away that debris if any of those branches are too heavy for you. Take what you can around back and we'll have to chop it up some other day."

"Alright," I nodded and was out the door, determined to handle as much of it as I could on my own. Working hard enough that Father noticed it always meant that I would get an extra hour of free time in the evenings, released from chores that could wait until the next day. It was one of my few chances to read and be free from distractions and interruptions occasioned by my family.

As soon as I stepped outside, the wind sliced through my clothing like a razor. "I should earn two extra hours for this," I muttered, surveying the damage from this closer vantage point. "Goddess, there must be an entire forest's worth of limbs here."

Suddenly the small stables and whatever animals might be penned there overnight seemed like the very height of desirable locations in which to work. My father wasn't doing me any favors by offering to see to that chore before helping me. Cold as the stables might be, with the poorly fitted window and door, at least there were walls to cut down on the vicious wind and no one would expect me to drag any of the beasts anywhere.

With a grim sign of resignation, I bent to the nearest fallen branch and tugged on it. It moved reluctantly, weighted down by soaked leaves and half buried in mud. Grunting with the effort, I dug the heels of my boots into the wet ground and nearly lost my footing as the ground shifted softly underneath me. But the branch was moving now and it was easier to keep up the momentum. Dragging it step by mired step around the corner of the inn, I took it very nearly to the kitchen door and then dropped it.

The damage was nearly as bad back here and as I straightened from the end of the limb I had just dropped, I surveyed the wreckage. That one there is twice as thick as any out front, I thought. There would be no moving that on my own, but perhaps it would keep until things had dried out and it could be chopped into smaller segments.

As I walked back around to the front of the inn, I could not help wondering at the fact that no windows had been smashed through in the middle of the night. Glancing up and down the street as I approached the front yard, I realized that the inn had been extraordinarily lucky. Darryn [], the shopkeeper, was assembling boards to nail over one of his east-facing windows. A little further down, I could see that an entire tree had toppled into the road from where it had previously stood sentry in front of a small house. Had it fallen in the other direction, I was certain the family living within would have been crushed.

Turning around and craning my neck, I peered up at the roof of the inn. I had heard several ominous thumps during the long night and the storm; between that, the howling wind and the booming of thunder, it had made for quite a racket. My current spot in the yard made it impossible to see all the way to the peak of the roof so, without thinking about it, I backed up several steps. My last step sent me sprawling over backwards into the mud.

Cursing through gritted teeth at my own carelessness, I reached out a hand to brace myself against the tree limb I had fallen over in order to steady myself as I obtained my feet. Even as I pushed against the tree however, I realized that something about it felt wrong, even through my gloves. My eyes immediately sought out the reason for this and I felt the breath catch in my throat as I realized that I hadn't grasped a tree limb at all, but instead a human limb.

Choking back my shock, I sucked in a deep breath and cautiously maneuvered myself to be able to see more of the still form that was more than half buried underneath a particularly large and still-leafy branch.